Who's That Guy?
by pulpbomb
Summary: Prompt from tumblr: "sherlock au where instead of janine being the one to walk out of sherlock's bedroom on hlv it was victor trevor wearing sherlock's underwear" This is my take on that scene. Viclock


Sherlock shouts as he disappeared into the bathroom. "And stay out of my bedroom."

John thought about that statement for moment before wandering towards the door to Sherlock's bedroom. As he got close, the door opened and a half-naked man strolled out.

John backed up, speechless. The tall brown haired man walked towards him wearing nothing but a pair of fitted boxer briefs. Before John looked away, he saw the monogram, WSSH on the hip. He recognized those pants, he'd been forced to wash them often enough back when he lived with Sherlock. This stranger was wearing Sherlock's underpants! What was going on?!

"Um, hi, I'm guessing you're John? Sherlock mentioned you used to be his flatmate. Nice to meet you, I'm Victor." The strange man said. He didn't seem to mind walking around in just his (Sherlock's!) pants so John determined to act natural.

"Right, John. Is me. Yes. Um." John backed into the kitchen did his best not to stare at the other man. Acting natural. Right.

Victor ran an absent-minded hand down his chest, scratching lightly. "Has everybody gone? I heard shouting."

"Yes, they're gone." John wondered if he was still asleep. This was one of the stranger days he'd ever experienced.

Victor went to the kitchen outer and picked up the carafe for coffee. He said over his shoulder to John, "Sounded like an argument. Was it Mike?"

"Mike?" John parroted, bemused.

Victor turned to look at John. "Mike, yeah. His brother, Mike. They're always fighting. Always have done."

"Mycroft." John said understanding dawning on his face.

Victor laughed, "Do people actually call him that?!"

John shook his head, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Huh," Victor glanced at the clock. "Oh, could you make coffee? I'm running late."

John walked over to the cupboard. "Sure, right, yeah."

Victor headed back towards the hallway. "Thanks." He stopped and whirled around. "Sherlock said you recently tied the knot? How's married life treating you?"

"It's fine. We're both fine, yeah." John was back to being baffled, Sherlock told this man about him, about his life? Who was he?! John reached for a cupboard when Victor spoke up, pointing at a different cabinet.

"Oh, it's over there now." He looks around. "Where's Sherl?"

John repeated the name in a near whisper, "Sherl!" He was definitely still sleeping. He grinned and cleared his throat, turning back to Victor.

"He's just having a bath. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute."

Victor snorted. "Oh, like he ever is!"

John huffed a "Yeah!" in response, frowning and wandering over towards the cabinet Victor had indicated.

Victor went down the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door. He immediately opened it and went inside, shutting the door behind him. "Morning!" John heard him say. "Room for one more?!

John heard Sherlock laugh and Victor chuckle before the sound of splashing water drowned out any further conversation.

John started whistling to keep from overhearing anything further and quickly start the coffee before bolting for the sitting room.

**** Months later****

The day after New Year's, Victor entered his flat and found Sherlock sitting on his sofa. He slammed the door behind him.

"You little shit. You must have balls the size of watermelons to come here after what you did!" Victor snarled.

Sherlock stood and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Victor, I had to. You don't know what I was up against."

"Fuck you Sherlock, I saw the papers. You led that poor girl along while you fucking me! You go and get yourself shot and I don't hear from you for months. Now here you are, like everything is fine? Nothing is fine." Victor was trembling, he was so angry. And hurt. Mostly hurt but anger was easier to deal with.

"Victor, listen to me. I killed a man. Mycroft was sending me on a suicide mission. If Moriarty hadn't shown back up, I'd be in Eastern Europe right now." Sherlock sighed heavily and sat back down.

Victor nodded. "Yeah, I saw your little playmate on the telly along with the rest of the country. You must be thrilled. The game is on and all that bollocks."

"Victor, didn't you hear me? I was going on a mission to essentially be killed. And besides it's not really Moriarty. He's dead. It's just someone trying to get my attention." Sherlock said, with a wave of his hand.

"I heard you. Mycroft told me what was happening. It pays to have a high security clearance. And you're welcome by the way." Victor walked to his armchair and sat down across from Sherlock.

Sherlock shot a questioning look at Victor. "What?!"

"I cobbled together some footage and hacked the feed. Even though I am beyond angry with you. I couldn't let you die." Victor smirked at the other man who was staring at him, gobsmacked.

"That was you?! You did that? For me? Even after the way I treated you, why would you do that?" Sherlock voice was barely audible.

"Because I love you, you colossal git. I always have. Yes, you hurt me badly - that's twice now, by the way - but I will always love you. I will always do everything in my power to keep you safe." Victor said, standing up and going to sit next to Sherlock.

Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned into Victor who wrapped an arm around the detective's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Victor. I fucked up. It's seems I always fuck up where you're concerned."

Victor pressed a kiss to Sherlock's temple. "Yes, well, you'll just have to make it up to me."

Sherlock turned and captured Victor's lips with his own. The kiss started gentle and quickly turned passionate and desperate. Pulling away, Sherlock leaned his forehead against the other man's. "Victor, I will spend the rest of my life trying to do just that."

Victor huffed a laugh. "I'll hold you to that."

Sherlock grinned, "I hope so."

Then he leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
